


I was happy (at the ballet)

by wewriteletters



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Angst, Ballet, Depression, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Pre-Series, Young Malcolm Bright, yes I wrote an entire fic because I wanted to talk about a chorus line keep scrolling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:26:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23506084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wewriteletters/pseuds/wewriteletters
Summary: When Malcolm is six years old, his mother signs him up for dance lessons. He keeps it up for five years until one day, his entire world crashes down around him.
Relationships: Jessica Whitly & Martin Whitly, Malcolm Bright & Jessica Whitly, Malcolm Bright & Martin Whitly
Comments: 16
Kudos: 72





	I was happy (at the ballet)

**Author's Note:**

> I literally only wrote this because I thought the revelation that Malcolm did ballet for five years was adorable, the fact that he mentions he showed "great promise" was sad, and the scene reminded me of the song At The Ballet from A Chorus Line so here we are! Apologies for any inaccuracies regarding ballet, I did some surface level research (mostly about dance schooling) but decided to keep most things vague since this is definitely not my wheel house. Hope you guys enjoy :)

**“And he'd say "Do you wanna dance?"  
And I said, "Daddy, I would love to"  
Everything was beautiful at the ballet  
Raise your arms and someone's always there  
Yes, everything was beautiful at the ballet”  
\- Edward Kleban, “At the Ballet” from A Chorus Line**

\------------

Malcolm didn’t want to go to ballet. 

But his mother was making him. 

“Sweetheart, you need a hobby!” She said, showing off the three different leotards she had already bought for the six year old. “Besides, you always have so much energy after school, won’t it be nice to dance around and let some steam off?”

“Jess, he’s already doing piano and learning latin with me,” Martin interjected from his spot on the couch. “He has plenty of hobbies.” Malcolm nodded in agreement, pushing aside the newspaper his father was reading so he could climb on top of his lap. 

“It’s never too early to start resume building!” Jessica began folding the leotards and neatly putting them back in her shopping bag. “Besides, millions of kids do piano. Ballet will stand out. Especially for a boy.” 

Malcolm looked to his father, pleading with him. “Daddy…”

Martin looked up at his wife, mimicking Malcolm’s tone. “Jessica…”

Jessica ignored him, instead turning back to their son. “Malcolm, you love ballet! You’re always so excited when we go to see The Nutcracker every Christmas.”

“Watching, I like watching ballet,” Malcolm corrected. 

“Come on, Jess,” Martin added. “Let the kid have some free time. What’s next, you’re going to sign Ainsley up for jujitsu? I’m sure she can fit it in her schedule between her afternoon nap and spreading her mashed carrots all over the table.”

“Well,” Jessica scoffed, putting her hands on her hips.“Excuse me for wanting our son to get a head start in life.”

“Yes, clearly the hundred thousand dollar college fund we set up the day he was born won’t be enough.” 

Jessica sighed and turned back to her son again. Malcolm had curled up onto his father's lap, his head resting under Martin’s chin. She softened. “Malcolm, just try one lesson. If you don’t enjoy it you don’t have to keep going.” 

Malcolm bit his lip, still pouting, before he nodded. His mother’s face lit up. 

“This is so exciting! I know you’ll love it, dear.” 

\------------

And Malcolm did love it.

He’d never give his mother the satisfaction of knowing she had been right, but the highlight of Malcolm’s week soon became the two dance lessons he had. The teacher, Ms. Daphne had immediately taken a liking to him; at first just because he stood out as one of only three boys in her class of twelve, but soon because she realized his natural talent for dance and movement. 

Malcolm loved dancing, but he also loved learning everything he could about ballet. His father read him books on the art forms history, he practiced pronouncing the French terms in the correct way, he learned about famous male ballet dancers and decided he wanted to be both a doctor, like his father, and a dancer. 

“Well, you’ll certainly be busy,” his father laughed when Malcolm told him about his future plans, as he showed off a pirouette in Martin’s home office. “But if anyone could do it, I know it would be you, my boy.” 

Malcolm smiled, and did another turn. 

\------------

“My boy!” 

Malcolm turned away from his fellow dancers, who were all hugging and congratulating each other, costumes still on and filled with adrenaline from their performance, to the voice of his father behind him. He immediately lit up. 

“Parents aren’t supposed to be backstage, dad,” the seven year old said, sounding barely concerned about breaking the rule. He was too excited to see his father. 

Martin had bent down on one knee, prepared for what he knew was coming up. He held a bouquet of flowers in his right hand that were almost as big as Malcolm and he nearly dropped them when his son came running and jumped into his arms for a hug.

“I couldn’t just wait in the lobby, I had to come see my star!” Martin stood up slightly, balancing Malcolm on his hip. 

Malcolm immediately started blushing and looked down. “I wasn’t the STAR.” 

“Well, you were the only one I could pay attention to onstage,” Martin replied, smiling. “And look, I got you flowers. Bravo, my boy.” 

Malcolm’s father always came to every recital. His mother came when she could, but more often than not she was busy with some gala she was organizing or a dinner party she was hosting. But his father was always there. Malcolm could sometimes see him out in the audience, gaze soley fixed on his son’s dancing. 

Malcolm grabbed the bouquet from his father's hands, just as excited as he had been the first time his father brought him flowers after a performance. 

“Thanks, dad.” 

“I love you, Malcolm.” Martin hugged his son closer. “Don’t ever forget that.” Malcolm smiled, his chest swelling up with happiness at his father's affection. “Now, let’s go get ice cream. I think you’ve more than earned that.” 

Malcolm lit up even more. 

\------------

At eight years old, Malcolm is invited to audition for Ms. Daphne’s advanced class. Not only does he get in, he’s the youngest person in the class level. Suddenly, he’s taking lessons four times a week, including a class taught by another teacher that is solely for boy dancers. 

At nine, he is being actively recruited to join the pre-professional troupe at the dance school. All of his teachers talk about what a gift he has. Malcolm is good friends with everyone in his class. The only thing he likes more than being at dance lessons is when he’s at home, dancing in his father’s study, showing him what he learned that day. 

At ten, he gets into the pre-professional program. He gets cast in his first principle role in a recital. His father, mother, and Ainsley, who at five years old can finally sit through a full recital, all watch him from the front row and Malcolm feels lighter than air as he dances across the stage.  


And then, two weeks before Malcolm turns 11, his father is arrested for murdering 23 people. 

And suddenly ballet isn’t that important anymore.

\------------

Malcolm stopped speaking. He stopped sleeping. He barely ate and he never danced anymore.

Jessica was worried about him, but what could she do? There were no parenting books dedicated to what happens when your child’s father is arrested for being a serial killer. 

She tried her best to return to a normal routine with her children. She started Ainsley back at school again. She attempted to put Malcolm back in school but it was clear her son needed much longer to adjust than her younger daughter. 

Malcolm had never missed a dance class or rehearsal before. Now he was missing every single one of them for weeks. Normally, this absence wouldn’t be allowed but the teachers realized it was extraordinary circumstances. Ms. Daphne called Jessica, told her Malcolm could take all the time he needed. She was almost shocked at how sympathetic the woman sounded over the line. It was such a stark contrast to how everyone else, including those she thought were her friends, had been treating her and her children lately. Jessica wanted him to go back to lessons. She wanted to do anything that would make her son happy. 

But it seemed like the only person who could do that was locked away in prison, for the rest of his life.

\------------

“You showed great promise, Malcolm. I’m sad to see you go.” Ms. Daphne smiled sympathetically. Malcolm was doing his best not to cry, as he stood in front of her in the dance studio he had spent so much of the past five years in. The place he was always excited to go to after school, the place where he made friends and had fun and truly felt free. 

He knew he was never going to come back here again. 

In a few minutes, the students would walk in, already dressed in their leotards, ready to get started. It was November, which meant auditions for The Nutcracker would be coming up soon. The school's professional dance troupe performed it every Christmas and they always used students to play the child roles. Malcolm had never done it before and had been preparing to audition for Fritz, Clara’s younger brother. 

But it didn’t matter anymore. Malcolm didn’t want to dance when he knew his father wouldn’t be in the audience, watching him. When he wouldn’t come running to hug him after the bows. When the two of them wouldn’t get ice cream afterwards like they always did. 

It wouldn’t be the same anymore. 

Jessica nudged Malcolm’s shoulder, trying to get him to say something in reply. She had finally agreed to cancel his dance classes, after he refused to even put on his shoes to leave the house the last three times. The only condition was he had to go tell his teacher in person. 

Or at least, stand quietly next to his mother as she explained the situation. Malcolm figured half the reason she insisted he come was because she thought it might make him finally talk himself, but after he had just stood in front of Ms. Daphne for nearly a full five minutes, silent, his lips trembling and tears welling up in his eyes, still unable to speak, his mother had interjected. 

“You hear that, Malcolm?” Jessica turned and bent down so she was eye level with her son. “Great promise.” She hesitated, looking up at the teacher again. Ms. Daphne was standing in the corner of the room where she normally taught, hands clasped and genuine disappointment in her face at Malcolm’s leaving. Jessica looked back down at Malcolm. “Are you sure you want to stop lessons? You know it’s hard to get back into it as a teenager-”

Malcolm cut her off by nodding rapidly, his lips a straight line as he pressed them together to keep himself from sobbing out loud. He didn’t want the other kids to hear him crying. He didn’t even want them to see him here. Malcolm knew they probably had been talking about him at all the lessons he missed. 

Talking about his father. 

Jessica sighed and looked apologetically back at Ms. Daphne. “I’ll pay for this month’s lessons anyway. I can leave the check with your receptionist.”

“Mrs. Whitly, you really don’t-”

“It’s fine,” Jessica cut her off sharply. “Thank you for all that you did for my son.” 

Ms. Daphne smiled and bent down so she could be eye level with Malcolm. “It was a pleasure to teach you. If you ever change your mind, there’s always a spot for you in my class.” Malcolm sniffed and leaned closer to his mother.

All he could manage was a small wave bye, as he walked out of the dance studio, for the last time.

Jessica tried to hold her son’s hand on the way out of the building, but he shoved his hands in his pockets. The two walked to the waiting car in silence. 

Jessica only said one thing to her son on the drive home.

“You know you’re letting your father win.”

He didn’t care.

Malcolm didn’t want to go to ballet.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! If you're reading Sins of the Father, I hope to have the new chapter up tomorrow. Need something to do when there's no new Prodigal Son :(


End file.
